He did not speak; but the short, harsh laugh that broke from his lips, as he puffed away at his cigar, was more cruel than the harshest words.
"This is what one might call a melodrama in real life," he said, at length. "It savors of comedy, too, and illustrates fully the old saying: 'Truth is often stranger than fiction!' But, to get down to business. Turn around and face me, while I tell you the injunction I lay upon you, and which you dare not refuse to obey!"
[CHAPTER XLVIII.]
The hapless young wife looked into the hard, set face above her, her eyes dilating with fear.
Her brain reeled; it seemed to her that she was dying.
"Listen to what I have to say," exclaimed Royal Ainsley, his hand tightening on her shoulder. "You have a fine home here—much finer than I could possibly offer you—and I propose that you shall keep it. There is no use in wasting sentiment between us. We do not care for each other, and you do care for Eugene Mallard. It will be some satisfaction for you to live beneath this roof, and I won't mind it at all, providing you make it worth my while. I will make my meaning clearer to you. I must have some money, and you are the one who must help me to it. Get a thousand dollars, and I will go away and never again molest you. Come, now, what do you say?"
Ida drew back and looked at him.
"You know that I could not get it for you," she said, with calmness.